His Secret To Keep
by mandaree1
Summary: (2007 movie-verse) Raph comes to Casey's apartment the night after Merryweather's death with blood on his hands and a few new secrets to keep.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in any form.**

**Title: His Secret To Keep**

**Summary: (2007 movie-verse) Raph comes to Casey's apartment the night after Merryweather's death with blood on his hands and a few new secrets to keep.**

**Warning: Pre-canon, mentions of blood and death, slightly angst.**

**...**

The night of his death, one man and one turtle entered Merryweather's apartment. Later, the turtle left and two men went in. The turtle came back, and left with his hands coated in blood.

He was the only one who left that apartment alive.

Muttering a vague curse under his breath that even he couldn't make sense of, Raph turned into the alley behind Casey's apartment and cut the engine. Leaning his shell against the grimy wall, he slowly pulled out the shiny helmet from where he'd tied it down in the back.

The Nightwatcher. Vigilante of the ages, the guy every bad guy feared, the one who never backed down from a fight, was dead. Gone. No more. His family would never even know _why_.

The original one was gone, at least. The fill-in was just to busy doubting himself to make his debut so soon.

He couldn't tell Donnie, not if he wanted to keep his promise. He sure as hell couldn't tell Mikey. Sensei probably already knew and was waiting for him to return with an extra cup of tea beside him, filled to the brim with an herbal sleeping remedy.

He remembered the sensation of hot tea sliding down his throat as Merryweather excitedly told him the story of one of his first thwarted bank robberies and groaned as though in pain. Forget tea. What he needed was cold, mind-numbing, and bad for his body in practically every way.

He was becoming an alcoholic, he realized as he curled in on himself, head tucked against the helm of The Nightwatcher's helmet. But that was okay, it was better than spending his nights alone with his racing thoughts or doping himself up on meds. Casey and a case of beer was a much better option.

Casey. Should he tell him? They never kept secrets from each other without a reason, but taking this vigilante stuff seriously was one hell of an excuse. Casey, a fellow vigilante, should understand that best, right?

But this wasn't about Casey or beer or fighting. It wasn't even about Raph. It was about a legacy he couldn't help but think he would never live up to, and the steps he could have taken to avoid having to live up to the legacy in the first place.

Leo. Leo was the leader, the guy that made sure he didn't make mistakes like this. And where was he?

He burst to his feet immediately, anger guiding his body as it had so many times before. Blood boiling, he kicked a stone as hard as he could, yelling in frustration. It slammed into an old brick wall and stayed there, the force enough to push it into the softened rock and keep it there.

Things would've been so much simpler all the way around if Leo were in the U.S instead of out playing Tarzan with the drug-dealing apes. He could've... He would've...

Oh, who was he kidding? Raph fell back into the seat of the motorcycle with a defeated sigh, helmet clutched tightly to his chest. Leo could've been right next to him when Merryweather died and nothing would have changed. He still would've killed those idiots, and he still would have made that stupid promise. This was his fault, his responsibility, his promise.

Merryweather must have seen something in him to give him his armor. Even if it was the smallest thing. Whatever it was, it was enough to give him the inkling that he could be trusted with his legacy as well as with his stuff. Trust like that didn't come easy for guys like that. What would he think of him now, sitting in the middle of an alley, falling apart like someone with no idea what he was doing?

Right. He straightened in the seat, amber eyes hardening. This was stupid. Here he was, moping over some dead guys like a traumatized teenager when he should be out there. Keeping his promise, proving to Merryweather that he was the right choice. Show whoever was watching- including Merryweather, if he ever bothered to look back- that he was more than capable to doing what needed to be done. How was that so different than any other night? So what if things would be a little more violent from then on in his dealing of criminals? The Nightwatcher beat his opponents soundly and ruthlessly, and from then on, he _was_ the Nightwatcher. Or the closest thing to it.

He could do this. He could be as hard as Merryweather was. He could harden his heart and cage it away, rely only on his aggression to get him through the night. Aggression and him were good pals, they'd survived more than a few nights together. He could do what he needed to do. He stared at the helmet in his lap and was suddenly under the impression that things would be more difficult for him after he started down this path, but no matter. He didn't have a choice in the matter anymore.

He wasn't just the replacement. He _was_ the Nightwatcher now, and he had a reputation to upkeep to the public. His doubts could and would be shoved into the back of his mind; they were useless as of now.

He still had dried blood on his hands, Raph realized with a start. He finally let go of his death grip on the helmet and sat it in his lap to stare at the dark color staining his hands and arms, nose wrinkling. He hated blood, especially on nights like tonight.

"Raph? Dude, are you okay?"

Casey only looked mildly surprised when he crawled through the window, bike and helmet stored and locked away. His eyes flashed with concern, but he kept up the image of carelessness as he helped him to his feet, eyeing the blood stains. They shared a look, Raph's eyes glittering with emotions he couldn't quite place, and Casey straightened up. "Right. Got it. You know where the shower is." He strode quickly towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna go get us some beers."

Good ol' Casey. The best kind of friend.

He stayed the night and most of the next day, drifting between nursing a hangover and drinking himself stupid, Casey right by his side as they lounged around, watching TV or talking. Casey doesn't ask about the blood or the new hard gleam in Raph's eyes, and Raph in turn doesn't mention the bike and suit, or his new job. He doesn't even think about it. After all,

Those were his secrets to keep.

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